


Not Yet

by pragmatist



Series: Together [1]
Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: F/M, ep 97 aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-04-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 19:28:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/727073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pragmatist/pseuds/pragmatist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starts when Lizzie and William wake up together the morning after the events of Episode 97.   They decide to hold off on certain physical aspects of their relationship, but their willpower is continually tested.  Eventually, they stop waiting.  Follows them from the onset of their relationship until Lizzie moves to San Francisco.</p><p>(Things got a little graphic, so I raised rating to E!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizzie and Darcy wake up together at Netherfield the morning after her birthday 'special delivery.' Includes a call from GiGi and some couple-y moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-edited and un-betaed, sorry but most of it just fell out of my head in a jumble about an hour after ep 97 aired. I just had an image of GiGi talking to Lizzie the next day, and I ran with it. Already canonballed, after GiGi and Fitz had their little twitter exchange this afternoon, but this was already mostly done so here it is.  
> Put some of this on tumblr this afternoon, but it wasn’t done, and I wanted it to be a one-shot, so I tweaked and added before posting here.

The grey light oozing in under the curtains is enough to pull her out of deep sleep.  Her right arm, trapped under his body, is dead to her.  She tries pulling it out, and they both squirm to find a more comfortable position (somehow ending up pressed even closer together than before.)  Lizzie burrows her cheek against his warm, solid chest, just awake enough to register that she is happier there than she has ever been anyplace else.

EEET!!!  EEET!!!  EEET!!!

“What the eff IS that?” Lizzie sits bolt upright at the piercing sound. 

His hand sleepily thumps his nightstand, pushing his glasses aside and grabbing his phone.  He glances and murmurs, “Call from GiGi…” as the device screeches again.

“Ooh, let me?” Lizzie holds her hand out and he gives her his phone with a smirk.

“William??!  Where are you? Are you travelling this week?” GiGi’s excited voice belts out of the phone.

Barely suppressing a giggle, Lizzie replies, “He’s at Netherfield.  With me.”

Three seconds of dead air are followed by a squeal far louder than the phone’s annoying ringer. 

Lizzie flops back down on William’s torso, and they both laugh as Lizzie holds the phone an arms-length away. 

“Oh my god!  Oh. My. God.  Are you kidding me??!!” GiGi squealed again.  “So you’re there, and he is too, and it’s 7:30 in the morning, so… Oh my god!!!”   

“No!  No no no GiGi!  It’s not like that!  Fully clothed.  On top of blankets even!”  Lizzie feels the need to clear that up to GiGi (though she doesn’t really know why).

“Oh. So you didn’t DO anything?”

“Not really,” Lizzie responds.

“Bummer.”

“GiGi, are you disappointed because your brother didn’t get l-“ Lizzie suddenly realizes that she is draped across said brother, and he has tensed up underneath her.

She decides a change of topic is wise, “So GiGi, did you need to talk to William?”

“No.  I’ll just let you go so that you can get back to your ‘not really.’” GiGi snickers.

With a roll of her eyes, Lizzie says, “Whatever, GiGi.  Talk later.  I’ve missed you.”

“Same here.  Bye Lizzie!”

Lizzie hands the silenced phone off to William. 

Lizzie props her chin on her hands and looks at the face of the now-fully-awake man in bed with her. 

“So…” he starts.

“So…” she returns, and then pushes herself forward to meet his lips.  It’s just as wonderful as it was last night, even with their lips puffy from sleep and a slight sour taste lingering from last night’s wine.  The instant their mouths connect, Lizzie feels everything hush around her, as if the entire world is their lips and their skin and their breathing.  She’s kissed before, made love before, but never had this feeling of disconnecting from everything tangible.  If it wasn’t for the lightning bolts shooting towards – certain sensitive places – her entire self-awareness would be _mouth_ and _warm_ and _smooth_ and _soft_ and _good_.

He is on his back, and her leg starts to curl around his on its own volition (rising hemline be damned).  She brings it higher and higher, just millimeters away from the target she wants to connect with, when his warm hand braces on her thigh and stops her motion.  She pulls away from the kiss and meets his hooded gaze. 

“Too much. Too tempting,” he murmurs in a voice raspy with desire. 

She quirks a small smile at him while replying gently, teasingly, “Who knew the rules would be such a challenge?”

 

 

Last night, when a cabernet-flavored make-out session on the sofa started sliding past second base and approaching third, they had wrenched apart with great effort on both parts.  They resituated themselves with a cushion between them and set some rules for their relationship.  First rule was: “not yet.”  No time frame was set for when they would progress physically, but they both agreed that they didn’t want to rush it (even if they did.)  Second rule was not to have rules – just to try to make this thing work.

Eventually the inner fires abated enough so that they were able to hold each other without igniting, and they talked until eyelids drooped and sentences were left hanging.  They shifted downwards so that they were stretched out side-by-side on the couch, limbs crossing and tangling.  Though he was drowsing, William’s long frame was cramped and awkward, and around 2 a.m. he proposed that they move to his bed. (“Not for THAT.  I’m exhausted but I don’t wait to be apart from you.  My bed is pretty comfortable.”)

 

 

 

William’s eyes graze over Lizzie’s face, his hand caressing circles around the circumference of her thigh.  “Maybe we were too hasty; maybe rules are... excessive?”  She can see that he’s tipsy on lust and feeling reckless.  She wishes to be reckless too, she wants him - _really_ wants him when he is laying there looking up at her as if she were a siren and he can’t fight her magnetism - but one of them has to have self-control.  So she whispers, “not yet” before she leans over and gives him one indulgent sweet lingering kiss and then pulls out of his arms and out of _their_ bed.

She uses the facilities, tidies up her smudged mascara and frizzled hair, and exits to find a more composed and cool Darcy sitting on the edge of the bed with phone in hand.  “I assume that you want to go home?” he questions with a nod at yesterday’s now-rumpled green blouse. 

“Yes, but maybe after I freshen up – and escape my mother – we can…”

“…spend the day together?” She nods with a not-quite-contained grin. 

“Do you mind if I shower and change before I drive you home?”

“Of course not! …as long as you promise that you’ll wear the vest again?” His eyebrow hitches and she sheepishly blushes, “yeah, the vest does things for me.  You’ll want to remember that.” He kisses her, stifling a laugh against her lips. “I will, trust me.”  He heads to the bathroom, looking rather smug.

Lizzie checks her phone for messages, but feels edgy when she hears the dual shower heads turn on.  It hits her that he’s naked, just on the other side of a door that she doesn’t think he locked, and she feels like this information is at the same time overwhelming and enticing.  She considers sneaking in, studying him through the smoky glass of the shower stall – just to see if the image she has in her head matches with reality.  Her hand starts to lift in the direction of the bathroom door, and she frowns at it for making a decision before the rest of her body.  “Not yet,” she sighs quietly.  “…but _soon_ ,” her head finishes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These episodes are making me insane. I am so thankful that my husband isn’t around when the episodes air; today I screamed “TORSOS!!!???” at my screen. And then watched the episode once – or twice, or ten times – more…
> 
> Thank God for tumblr and twitter, keeping me sane. Or maybe just keeping me surrounded by others who are just as insane about the LBD as I am?


	2. Radio Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizzie and Darcy spend their first day together as a couple - immersion into the Bennet household and hanging out at Netherfield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn’t resist adding to this. With Dizzie being so completely radio silent right now (with the exception of Darcy favoriting GiGi’s tweet), I am pulling my hair thinking “what are they doing RIGHT NOW???” I mean, did he whisk her off to Fiji or something? (Assuming that they have dropped off the face of the earth together, of course). So, this is just one little interpretation of how things could be going. The topics that I am struggling with (and therefore avoiding) are Pemberley Digital’s Domino partner search/community launch, Lizzie’s eventual need for a job, and the fact that Darcy and Lizzie don’t live near one another. I believe that all three of these things will knit together in canon, but I have no idea how. Very curious to see how the writers do it.

En route to the Bennet home, Lizzie tries to warn William about what awaits them.  “My mother may be the only loving parent on the planet who will rejoice in the ‘walk of shame,’” she informs him.  “There may be cheering when she sees me slink through the door wearing yesterday’s clothes.”

“And fist-pumping?”

“Yes,” she groans.  “I’m sure some of that as well.”

What does greet them at the door is a shrieking blur of flaming orange.  Lydia quiets and raises on her tiptoes to throw her arms around William’s neck, closing her eyes and whispering “Thank you.”  She backs off and looks at Lizzie appraisingly.  “Nice job, nerdy big sis.  Didn’t I see you in that outfit _yesterday_?”  Her words are teasing, but the look in her eyes is warm and reflects the newly-tightened bond between the sisters. 

Lizzie can’t even manage to look sheepish, and Lydia continues, “You guys lucked out.  Mom’s going to make waffles!” 

Lizzie’s feeling pretty grungy by this point, so she announces, “I’d really like to get in the shower…” She turns to William, “…will you be okay if I abandon you for a little while?”

Before he can answer, a deep, mellow voice pipes up, “Maybe Mr. Darcy and I can have a little ‘chat’ in my study while he waits for you?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Bennet, I would enjoy that,” William answers politely.

With one last sympathetic glance at him, Lizzie heads upstairs.  She hurries as fast as she can, but also makes sure to do a perfect job shaving her legs – just in case.  She dries and flat irons her hair, and applies some light make-up.  Pleased with her appearance, Lizzie heads down the hall and enters her bedroom – only to find that it is already occupied by a very appealing, very tall man.  William has his back to the door, and is thumbing through a book.

“Hey, I, uh, didn’t expect you in here,” starts Lizzie.

Distracted by the book, William responds, “Lydia ushered me up here so that your mom could focus on breakfast, and not be occupied by me.” He turns to grin at her, and freezes.  “You’re in a towel.”

“Yeah, like I said, I didn’t think you’d be in here.”

He looks stupefied as his eyes rake over her scantily-clad frame.  “You’re in a towel.”

“Yes, we’ve established that.” Lizzie is amused at his dumbfounded expression.   “And I can’t remedy the situation unless you leave.”

He meets her eyes and clears his throat.  She can tell that every word she just said to him has ricocheted off him and is floating around the room unheeded.

“Here.”  She clasps him on the shoulders and walks backwards to her doorway, dragging him along.  She pulls him into the hall, and gives him a shove so that he is leaning against the wall.  “Wait here. I’ll just be a sec.”

He hears frantic movement in the room - a creaky closet door, several drawers opening and closing. He’s pretty sure that she stubs her toe at some point, because there’s a loud thud followed quickly by a terse, muttered, “Fuck! Damn it all!” and a short pause before all the commotion restarts. 

William is charmed by listening to her flurry and chaos (and could get used to its regular presence in his life). He feels thrilled to be right there, at that moment, in Lizzie’s home; he’s so crazy happy that the waiting and worrying is over and their relationship can finally launch.  One of his favorite quotes pops into his head, and he pulls out his phone.  He opens Pemberley Digital’s twitter account, and types, “Patience and Diligence, like faith, remove mountains. - William Penn.”  All too appropriate, he thinks, as he stuffs his phone back into his pocket.

Just as he is missing Lizzie and is about to knock on her bedroom door, it opens to reveal her, casually-dressed in jeans and a hoodie, with a large stuffed bag hanging on her shoulder.  He smiles at the bag.  “I thought, well, maybe –“ she tries to explain. 

“Yes,” he interrupts.  “Perfect.”

 

 

Two hours later, Lizzie convinces Lydia to distract their mother so that she and William can make their exit.  Lizzie is afraid that he is approaching a breaking point, and will turn into Darcybot right before all of their eyes.  The truth is, even though Mrs. Bennet can be a bit – _overwhelming_ – with her dramatics and singular focus, she has made William feel welcomed, as she dribbles syrup over his waffles and refills his orange juice.  The other truth is that the Darcybot has been reprogrammed, and it would take a whole lot more than a semi-hysterical future-mother-in-law for him to revert back to his old ways.

Upon Lizzie’s suggestion, they stop at the grocery store on the way back to Netherfield to pick up fixings for a few meals.  They saunter through the store, holding hands, with no real rush or agenda.  They grab some basics – oatmeal and organic tea for William, sugary cereal and diet coke for Lizzie, and a motley sampling of other staples.

There’s a brief discussion in the car ride to Netherfield about “what should we do today?” but in the end, they both agree that nothing sounds more appealing than just lazing around in each other’s company.   As they are putting the groceries away, Lizzie realizes that her newest video aired hours before.  She is dying to see how Charlotte edited it - oh, God, would there be tongue?  Eww.  Lizzie didn’t think that was something her viewers needed to see… in fact, she was a little embarrassed that Charlotte was privy to it. 

Trusting her bestie’s professionalism and discretion, Lizzie suggests to William that they watch the video together over tea.  He exuberantly agrees, and they are both relieved to see Charlotte’s cut-away as soon as William’s torso entered the screen. 

“Well, that is a bit of a cliffhanger,” he comments.

“That’s good!  It leaves my viewers curious.  And it gives us some time to avoid all the crazy flailing and ‘shipper’ reactions.”  She kisses him for emphasis. 

Lizzie feels the sides of his mouth pulling up under the pressure of her own lips, and she hears a low grumble of a laugh deep in his throat.  She pulls away to see that he is barely containing his mirth.  “Yes, Mr. Darcy?  Is there something you’d like to share with the rest of the class?”

He fights it for a moment, then chuckles and grins cheekily as he asks, “Can _I_ see your internet browser history?”

Lizzie instantly feels the fires burning in her cheeks, and stammers, “No. no!”  She looks up to see that, while he is jesting, he is genuinely curious.  She doesn’t want to be shy with him, doesn’t want to play games or keep secrets, so she alters her response, “Not… yet, anyhow.”

He kisses her on the forehead and mumbles, “You certainly have my curiosity piqued.”  He senses her discomfort, and changes the subject.  They discuss work – both so excited to be able to geek out to one another about new and emerging technologies and transmedia ventures – but they also both tear up when he shares some stories about his family.  She questions him about her father’s talk with him this morning, but all William would reveal was, “He loves you.  And I love you.  And we both want the best for you.  That’s the gist of it.”

When rumbling tummies signify that Mrs. Bennet’s filling breakfast is starting to wear off, William scoops Lizzie up and carries her all the way to the kitchen.  He sets her on the stool and pours them each a glass of Pinot Grigio.  She watches in delighted silence as he moves confidently around the kitchen; he makes her feel secure and cared for, and she entertains a little fantasy about being married to him and being able to have times like this on a daily basis.  Cooking, sharing their days, eating together, drinking too much wine and stumbling up to their bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes…

Lizzie startles guiltily and shakes her head in reprimand.  She studies William as he stands at the stove, and notices how biteable his ass looks in his snug black jeans.  She realizes that perhaps she’s a little bit tipsy from a whole glass of Pinot on an empty stomach, but at this point she honestly doesn’t care. 

Lizzie slides off the stool and approaches him.  She slides her hands down the sides of William’s hips, and that is all the encouragement he needs to turn around and tangle his hands in her hair.  “Apparently he’s a little tipsy too,” she thinks, as he kisses her manically and pulls her flush to him.  He cups her rear end and pulls her up against him; she can feel his evident excitement and that knowledge makes her feel more drunk than wine ever could.  He lifts her onto the marble-topped island and she locks her legs around his hips.  They lose themselves in a fury of roaming hands and wandering mouths and are on the verge of giving in entirely… when a shrill peal bleats out and alerts them to the smoking pan on the stove.

William changes gears in an instant, and rushes to shut off the burners and toss the pan of scorched scallops into the sink.  He looks over at Lizzie, still perched on the island with shiny red lips and a hickey on her clavicle, and they both start laughing after a few seconds of incredulous gazing.  His shirt is half-untucked and he can feel scratch marks beginning to welt up on his lower back, and there is just something so comical about burning lunch because you are groping each other like a pair of randy teenagers. 

Even the pasta that was boiling is inedibly overcooked, so they gather up a picnic lunch of crusty bread and sharp cheese and grapes (and the rest of the Pinot), and camp out on the sofa with an old movie playing on cable.

The soporific effect of full bellies and more wine lead them to contentedly doze away the afternoon entangled on the couch.  They awaken to a new movie on the big-screen and late afternoon sunbeams blazing in through Netherfield’s floor-to-ceiling windows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fully meant for this to all be done in this chapter, but it kind of got away from me. Excited to get the next chapter done; I plan to continue it even though this will all certainly be AU in about 9 hours. Their day may have been slow-paced, but their evening will put them at Carter's with Lydia (had to give you a sneak peek). 
> 
> This whole LBD phenomenon is just amazing and the fandom is so incredibly talented. I am in awe that I am somehow permitted to post my writings on a site alongside so many astoundingly gifted authors. 
> 
> If anyone wants to fangirl with me, you can find me as greysfull on tumblr and twitter. I guarantee copious amounts of LBD obsession, reblogging, discussion, snark, and general flailing and squeeing, especially in the next week!


	3. Out in public

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizzie and Darcy head out to Carter's bar with friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, thus far this story hasn’t been officially canonballed, despite episodes 98 and 99 and Q&A 10. In this fic, we are still on March 18. In canon, we really have no idea what happened between them from March 17-now. So, I can continue to tell you this story and we can pretend together that this is how it happened (unless you prefer the thought that they went at each other like wild monkeys on the night of Lizzie’s birthday – in that case, read my other fic, Her Birthday Present. Yes, I’m self-promoting.)

Lizzie feels languid but rumpled as she eases herself out of William’s arms.  “I’m going to go freshen up,” she announces before heading to the restroom. 

When she heads back to him with hair smoothed and teeth brushed, she finds him hunched over his phone with a fretful expression.

“What’s wrong?” she approaches him and slides her arm through his. 

“Nothing.  It’s not important. It’s just…”

“…work stuff?” Lizzie supplies.

He looks apologetic as he nods in affirmation.  “I don’t want work to interrupt us today.”

“William, it’s okay.  There was a time when I didn’t understand how essential you were to your business, but, now, well, I get it.  You’re the CEO.  If I want to be with you, I need to accept that work may sometimes interrupt.  And I do.  Want to be with you, that is.”

He smiles gratefully and casts a concerned look at his phone. 

“Really, if there’s something you need to handle, go ahead.” 

He sighs.  “In that case, there is a phone call I really should return…”

He still looks reluctant, so she tells him, “Go!” and kisses him on the cheek before shoving his chest gently.  “I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

 

 

 

Lizzie’s feet are the first thing that William sees when he returns to the lounge over an hour later.   She is splayed out in one of the armchairs, with her legs hanging over one side and her head lolling back over the other.  He stands in the doorway and considers his plan of attack.  _Tickling? No, too passé.  Lifting her shirt and kissing her smooth, silky, flat belly?  Mmm.  A much more intriguing option…_

As he advances, her voice carries to him in low tones, and he realizes that she is speaking on her phone.  “…video was just the start… at Netherfield… yes, together… no! … been wonderful… very happy…” William overhears as he debates his options.  Finally he decides that, even though she seems to be discussing him, it is a private conversation and he should not listen in without her knowledge.  He clears his throat loudly, and Lizzie flings herself up into a sitting position.

“Hey, Jane, William’s back, so can I let you go?...Yes, _William_.” Lizzie grins at him and bites her bottom lip.  “Bye, sweetie, talk more soon.”  She taps her phone to end the call, and looks up at him.  “All done?” 

Her enthusiasm at seeing him is obvious, and he smirks back at her.  “Yes, Lizzie Bennet, I am all yours for the rest of the evening.  So, what would you like to do?”

As if on cue, Lizzie’s phone chirps out a musical note, and she peeks at the screen.  “It’s a text from Lydia.  She says that she and Charlotte and a handful of friends are going to Carter’s later, and she wants us to join them.” 

“Would you like to go?”

Lizzie’s first inclination is to blurt “No!”  She hesitates as she considers the actual wording of Lydia’s text, _“u cn show off ur new peice of mancake arm candyyyy!!!!?!!!!!”_   The idea of flaunting her hot new boyfriend - in front of a crowd who assumes she is perpetually single - is not without appeal.  “I… well, maybe?”

He takes a deep breath.  “Why don’t you let me take you out for dinner downtown at that bistro you told me about earlier?  Then we can drop in at Carter’s and hang out with your friends for a while afterwards.”

“William,” she snakes her arms around his waist.  “That sounds lovely.”  She stands on her tiptoes and kisses him on the tip of his chin.  “I brought one dress along, so I should probably go change.”

“In a minute,” he murmurs thickly against the side of her neck, as he pulls her tight.  One minute spirals into fifteen, and Lizzie is only startled out of her trance when a particularly loud whimper escapes from her own throat.  Her conscious mind resumes function, and she becomes aware that she is perched on the back of the couch, with one of William’s arms around her back, holding her securely.  His other hand is cupping her left breast, and lightly pinching her nipple through the fabric of her bra.  His mouth is working on that charming area between her jugular and her earlobe. ( _Oh, so that explains the whimper_ , she thinks).  Her legs are clamped against his hips, and the firm bulge in his trousers is kneading against her center in a lazy rhythm.

“William.  God!  William!” She fights to pull herself out of the quagmire of lust that they are both sinking into.  “William.  We need to stop.”  He pulls back and studies her face, trying to make some sense out of the nonsense she seems to be spouting.  “’Not yet,’ remember.  We agreed not to get carried away.”

He inhales sharply, and steps back from her.  “But, getting carried away is fun.  I like getting carried away with you.”  He mock pouts and leans in as if to make another attempt to suckle on her neck. 

“Naughty boy,” she scolds seductively.  “One minute, you said?  You, William Darcy, are a distraction… and a bit of a procrastinator.”

He chuckles deeply, “I will wear those titles proudly if they are awarded by you after such moments as these.”

“You are so cheesy.  Now, can I go change, or are you going to distract me again?”

                              

 

 

William buys a bottle of pricey merlot with dinner, and Lizzie feels her inhibitions start to fade as the alcohol warms her veins.   By the time they arrive at Carter’s, Lizzie is eager to build on her inebriation, let loose, and have some mildly irresponsible fun.  She immediately flags down the bartender and orders two Newcastles.  “You’re slumming it with me tonight, Darcy.”

Lydia may be a more sedate version of her old self, but she is still the exuberant one in their group.  Before everyone can finish their first round, Lydia has ordered up shots for the entire table.  When the server asks if she will be opening a tab, Lydia replies, “He’s got it!” and points at William.  Lizzie starts to protest, but William leans in to her and declares, “Don’t worry about it.  I handle bar tabs for clients all the time; it is not a big deal.” 

“But she can’t just –“

“Talk to her about it tomorrow, when she – and you – are more coherent,” he interrupts. 

Lizzie nods; he is so diplomatic.  And so good, and decent, and considerate.  He also looks mighty fine in his white dress shirt, suspenders, and skinny tie.   She downs the shot of jager in front of her, and feels bold enough to lean towards William and ease her hand onto his thigh. 

There is a Deejay in the corner of the dance floor, and the bar is packed atypically for a Monday evening.  After the second – or third? – round of shots has been drained, Lizzie can feel the vibrations of the bass and the thrum of the crowd pulsing through her.  She is making small talk with Charlotte across the table, but angles her body very intentionally in a way that (she hopes) offers William a friendly view of her cleavage.  Her hand has crept northwards from the vicinity of his thigh; her palm rests on his hipbone while her pinky happily strokes the delicious crease at the juncture of his leg and hip. 

Charlotte, tired of shouting across the table at Lizzie, moves on to converse with the man at her right (Lizzie recognizes him from some of her undergrad classes, but he had always been more sociable with Charlotte.  Mostly-drunk Lizzie can’t seem to recall his name, or really even care about that fact.)  She scoots even closer to William, and briefly considers just climbing into his lap.  It looks so comfy there.

“Lizzie Bennet?” He yells against her ear.

“Yes?”

“Would you like to get your groove thing on?  I hear this music is good for dancing.”

She pulls back in shock, and looks at him straight on.  He isn’t laughing, or even smiling outright, but the dimple on his right cheek is showing.  He cheeks are slightly flushed from alcohol, and there is a sparkle in his eyes that she is learning to recognize as his way of outwardly expressing mirth.

“I _would_ like to dance with you, William Darcy.”

 

 

Never – even in some of the more lurid daydreams that she indulged in over the past couple months – never would she have imagined William Darcy bumping and grinding in public to Fallout Boy and Florence + the Machine.  But here he is, pressed up against her, his hands pulling her ever tighter, and it is far hotter than anything her mind could have pictured.  Neither one of them seems to be able to break eye contact, and their lips keep brushing and sticking together as if they were magnets. 

William’s moves are smoother, sultrier, than Lizzie had given him credit for.  She feels that every undulation of his hips, every time he grabs or fondles her is a preview, and a promise.  She is relieved, and doesn’t understand why at first.  Eventually it comes to her that she may have had some trepidations about his sexual prowess. 

He is so often formal in his mannerisms, and Lizzie remembers not long in the past when she saw all of his movements as robotic.   Deep down, a part of her had been worried that he would be mechanical, unemotional, between the sheets as well - like he might see sex as something perfunctory and technical. 

Based on his kisses and caresses throughout the past day, and the way that he is grinding his arousal into her lower abdomen - right out on the dance floor in a public place - Lizzie is no longer concerned.  He was a man of passion, and she sensed that when the time came, he would hold nothing of himself back.  Despite the height difference, their bodies fit together beautifully and move in sync like they had practiced the choreography beforehand.  _He_ will _be a good lover_ , she thinks.  _The sex is going to be amazing between us.  Fucking fantabulous._

After a few songs, she knows that they have officially progressed from ‘dancing’ to ‘foreplay.’  Lizzie senses sweat dripping into her décolletage, and really wants his tongue to chase the trickle there.  She can’t seem to keep her hands off of his rear end, and he has palmed her breast more than once.   However, she does not feel embarrassed until Lydia’s voice breaks into her trance, “You guys are grossing me out!  Get a freaking room already!”

William also startles at Lydia’s intrusion, and jumps back from Lizzie with a look of bewilderment on his face.  The booze has lowered Lizzie’s shame threshold, and all she can manage to do is laugh at her sister’s comment.  She grabs William’s hand and drags him to a barstool.  She sits down, and pulls him in close to the V of her legs.  “I don’t want to be here,” she announces.

“I understand.  Nor do I,” he states as he leans in next to her ear.  “But I do not think that heading back to Netherfield at this moment would be a wise choice… if we intend to keep our rules.”  At this, he tilts his head back and asks with a raise of one eyebrow, _we are still keeping our rules, right?_

“We could… walk?  It’s a nice night… and I’m wearing flats.”

He nods slowly, and, after a few gestures to Lydia and Charlotte, she hops off the stool and leads him outside.

 

 

The brisk temperature, in addition to walking over most of the town, helps to sober them both.  Though Lizzie perceives the sexual current still running between them, it has been muffled by deep, passionate discussion about politics and business, family, religion.  They are sitting in swings at Lizzie’s former elementary school, finally enjoying the Tolstoy conversation that William had tried to initiate many months before, when Lizzie finds herself unable to stifle a yawn.

William pulls out his pocket watch and flips it opens.  “Good heavens.  It’s 1:30 a.m.  We should head back to the bar to get my car.”

They start walking, but Lizzie hesitates.  “William?  Do you think you should just take me back to my house?  We seem to have trouble minding our own rules, and maybe it would just be – easier – if I didn’t stay overnight with you.”

“Do you want to come back to Netherfield with me?”  Lizzie nods eagerly. “Then it’s settled.  I want you there as well.” He takes hold of her hand. “I just want you close to me.  I promise I’ll behave.”

He is true to his word; upon their return to Netherfield, they separately change into proper sleeping attire – he wears blue plaid flannel pants and a white t-shirt, and she wears the striped pajamas that he recalls from Episode 89.   They lie down with a buffer zone between them, trying not to touch.  Eventually, though, as sleep begins to claim them, body parts tendril towards each other, like roots seeking water.  First fingertips meet, followed by feet, then arms, legs, and everything else all at once.  When finally Lizzie lies fully against his side, fingers and limbs intertwined, the night seeps in and overtakes them, body and mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably 2 more chapters after this.
> 
> For some reason, I struggled with this chapter, so concrit is very very appreciated!
> 
> All comments and kudos make the writing happen faster! TRUTH!


	4. Bent, not broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizzie and William discover that their rule is pretty flexible; there's lots of bending and twisting that can go on without actually breaking...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this story has rounded a corner in this chapter! I decided that my conscience felt better about giving it an E rating, so I made the change. I hope that most of you knew something of this nature would happen eventually in this story, so you are not too offended by blatant sexual descriptions!

A sharp pain in her left knee awakens Lizzie.  It is no surprise that her joints ache, she thinks, considering the way that she had folded herself around William’s sleeping body.  She resituates herself slightly, and props her head up on her arm to examine him as he slumbers.  Based on the barely-existent anemic glow in the room, she guesses that the time is close to dawn.  The pallid light brings his features into relief, and she studies his profile – his dark brow, his pronounced nose, his slightly-parted lips that she knows to be soft yet firm and remarkably talented.

Lizzie’s eyes wander down his frame.  One outrageously big hand is flung up next to his head, and the other is relaxed, slightly curled, on his chest.  She takes a moment to savor, to appreciate, his largeness, his masculinity.  He is broad and virile, and she feels dwarfed next to him. She supposes that several of her Women’s Studies professors in college would revoke her feminist card for the thought, but she can’t help it – she _likes_ the way that she feels small and girlish when she is with William.  She doesn’t want that in every aspect of her life, but, in their relationship, she enjoys that he is her opposite in many ways.

She resumes letting her gaze caress his frame – flat tummy, slim hips, and OH.  _Oh_.  Lizzie is temporarily stunned thoughtless at the sight of the tented sheet over his groin.  As she recovers, she doesn’t see why she would be surprised – these things happen naturally, she knows, and certainly the amount of kissing and groping that they have engaged in recently would have only made things worse for him. 

Lizzie leans in slightly closer, trying to study the muted shape of his arousal through layers of fabric.  She wants to know what she is dealing with, what is in store for her.  He looks sizable, she notes with a frisson of glee.  She feels herself getting moist as she thinks about the auspicious size of his genitalia, and tries to decide what to do with that newfound, titillating information.

She could always just ignore it – roll over and go back to sleep, but that seems neither kind ( _the poor boy_ ) nor fun.  There’s a big – _huge, horny_ – part of her that wants to yank the sheets and his pants down and just ride the hell out of him, but…   But.   They had agreed. ‘Not yet.’  Trying to make him change his mind while he was under such – _duress_ – was wrong.  She couldn’t take advantage of him while he was asleep.

Besides, Lizzie ponders, with him even sex itself is more than sexual - it is profound and multi-faceted. Certainly the sex would feel good – great – mind-blowing probably – but she isn’t just in this for a quick fix.   Sex with William isn’t just going to be a race to tally up orgasms; it is going to be about the journey as much as the finish line.  She wants to care for him, love him, gentle him with her words and her touches.

She wants to make him happy because it is just so wonderful to make him feel good.  The more she knows of him, the more fragile she recognizes him to be.  His exterior shells – the sullen and terse man she first met, even the confident and take-charge CEO – have less and less to do with the version of William Darcy that Lizzie is beginning to understand.  Inside the husks lays a wounded soul that has been broken too often, a spirit that will need cosseting and frequent affirmations, a bruised heart that needs to trust her and know that she loves him completely.  This cannot be a half-hearted relationship; there can be no secrecy with this man, no hidden feelings.  Lizzie intends to tell him – and show him - of her adoration as often as possible.

Although her own arousal still burns between her legs, she decides that she wants to ignore it; she wants to focus on him, and enjoy _his_ pleasure… this time.  She lets her hand graze lightly over the peak in the sheets, and shivers at how steel-hard he is.  Her fingertips whisper softly down his length, and back up again.  As she rubs her index finger around the head, he stirs and lifts his head from the pillow.

“Lizzie, what’re you doing?” Caught between sleep and lust, he is barely coherent.  “Lizzie, please don’t tease.” 

“I’m not teasing.  I’m going to make you feel better.” Her hand continues its feathery assessment of his member, and he arches his neck back and juts his hips up.

With a groan, as if he just wants to accept her statement without challenge, but cannot, he stutters, “You… don’t have to… do this.”

“No, let me.  I was so mean to you, I hurt you… now please, let me make you feel good.”

William’s eyes fly open and meet hers, as his hand darts down to grab her wrist, stilling her motions. He is still gasping, but she sees hurt and confusion in his expression.  “Lizzie, you don’t owe me anything.  For God’s sake, I don’t want you to _give me a hand job_ out of some sense of duty or obligation.” 

“Oh, no, no.  That’s not what I meant!  No owing, no obligation.  If anything, maybe a little bit of… _an apology_?  Maybe?  But, no, mostly just… well… I was responsible for that dejected, damaged look on your face for so long, and now, I want to be responsible for putting the exact opposite expression there.” 

He stares at her, trying to analyze her gaze, and Lizzie hopes he can see the tenderness, the compassion she feels.  Eventually, he loosens his grip on her wrist, and leans back onto his pillow.  Lizzie smirks at the resigned look in his eyes, and is thrilled to have his unspoken permission to proceed.

 “William,” she purrs at him.  “Relax.  Please.  I _want_ to do this.  So you just close your eyes and let your girlfriend become acquainted with your significant assets.”

He gasps as if he is about to respond, but she stops his tongue and his brain when she slips her hand under the layers of fabric and into his boxers with one fluid movement, seizing him firmly.  She circles her hand around him, and strokes downward while using her wrist in a subtle twisting motion.  His trembling hands ease down and he lifts his shirt so that his abdomen is exposed.  Lizzie takes this as her cue to push down the layers of clothing and bedding that cover him, and his erection bounces free.  _Crap. Is everything about him huge?_  She salivates as she studies the taut skin, the bulging veins, and is tempted to trace them with her tongue.  _Next time_ , she plans.  This time, she wants to see his face as she gives him bliss. 

She straddles his upper thighs, and spits on her hand.  When she reaches for his cock again, she grasps tight as her hand slips down to the base.  With her other hand, she cups his balls and squeezes gently.

“Fuck,” he exhales.  The force of the vulgarity leaving his lips seems to snap him back to reality, and he meets Lizzie’s scrutiny with an apology in his eyes and his mouth open to say the words.  Lizzie is relentless, though, and tilts a smile at him as she builds a pace.  “Lizzie…” he struggles to make his mind send words to his mouth.  “Lizzie… I’m serious… this is going to be over humiliatingly fast…” 

“Good.  William, _I like it_ when you lose control.  I like making you lose control.”  The look she gives is so earnest, so pure and honest and believable, that it pushes him over the brink. 

His eyes squeeze shut as he grimaces, and his entire body stiffens and convulses as he releases over her hand and his stomach.  He lies still, panting and quaking, as she uses the sheet to clean them both up.  He feels her motions quiet, and her hands brace against his hips.  He slowly opens his eyes, and finds her staring intently.  He doesn’t know if he _should_ feel embarrassed, but senses the color rising in his cheeks. 

“William, you are so beautiful,” Lizzie declares. 

His post-orgasmic haze doesn’t allow him to find the right words to reply to her, so he simply pulls her down flush against him, and kisses her.   “Now, let’s see what I can do for you…” he murmurs against her mouth.

“No.”

“No?” He pulls back.  “What do you mean, no?” 

“I mean, not this time.  I want to appreciate that as a singular event.  ‘No owing, no obligation,’ remember?  Same applies to you.” 

“But, that’s not fair.  I want to touch you.  I want to put my fingers in you.  I want to _taste you_.” He mutters against her temple. 

She feels his cock beginning to stiffen again underneath her, and she can’t help but groan delicately as she answers, “Later.  Later, I promise.” She kisses him again, and rolls off his body.  As she tucks into his side, she chuckles, “If I let you have your way with me now, we would end up in this bed all day, stuck in an endless loop of reciprocity.”

“That doesn’t sound bad to me,” he frowns slightly.

“We have time, William.  We have one rule, let’s at least make some effort to keep it.”

He sighs, but wraps his arm around her and kisses her on the forehead.  “Fine.  But you are not going to get away with this selfless behavior for long.”

 

 

Somehow, barely, they keep their rule.  When he heads back to San Francisco after a week in her hometown, their relationship is yet unconsummated.  However, the rule doesn’t seem to apply to ‘everything but.’  If, for example, Lizzie wakes up one morning and finds his head between her legs, his tongue easing into her, well, the rule is still in place.  If they have a (mostly-) dry-humping session on the sofa one evening while (not) watching Titanic, the rule is technically still unbroken. 

Only after he has arrived back at his condo, only when she is laying cold in her bed, waiting for his call, does the regret hit both of them.  She picks up on his first ring and blurts, “I think our rule is silly!”  He laughs, but she rushes on, “No, really, it’s dumb.  I love you and I want to be with you, and we are both adults.  And I miss you already.” 

William is quiet on the other end, and she fears that she has shocked or offended him, but then he answers, “I agree. With all of it.”

“So… no more rule?”

“No more rule.”

She squeals, yet he can hear the pout in her voice as she follows it with, “Some good that does us when you’re there and I’m here.”

“Maybe I can return soon.  God knows it will be difficult to stay away, even before abolishing certain rules.”

William looks at his calendar, and thinks he can re-arrange his schedule to free him for a couple of days in two weeks’ time.  He is fearful, though, of last-minute mandatory meetings, and he doesn’t want to let her down, so he tells her that he should be able to visit in three weeks. 

“Three weeks, then,” she breathes deeply.  “I’ll be counting the minutes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter – epilogue. No more rule. 
> 
> I had a totally different path planned for this story, but when all the tweeting happened yesterday, all the lovely pics of Lizzie and Darcy and Lydia and Charlotte and Collins, I decided to re-organize chapter 5 so that it flowed better with canon. 
> 
> Comments make the writing happen faster! Honest. Help me get better at this - I want to know what works and what doesn't, what you like and especially what you don't. Be critical; I'm a big girl, I can handle it!
> 
> Always looking for other crazy fans to squee with on tumblr. Find me there as greysfull!


	5. No more rule

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The "Not Yet" Rule gets broken. 
> 
> Is that enough of a chapter summary?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay; it was a longer gap than I intended it to be. Real life, yo. Easter and Easter-related stuff, and I may or may not be on Percocet as I finish up this chapter, due to a pinched nerve in my neck. So, if this thing totally veers off into weird-ville, we are blaming the drugs.  
> This somehow ended up being Darcy POV, and I just let it be. I guess he had a story to share? IDK, really, I just write what the voices tell me to.

Lizzie kisses him farewell on a Monday, when their relationship is eight days old (seven-and-a-half, but who’s counting).  He is in the air when she posts her video, but he pulls it up on his phone as soon as his driver closes him into the back seat of his car.  He feels like an idiot as he watches his own flustered face on the tiny screen.  Then Lizzie enters the frame, and he forgets to watch the man on screen, because the auburn-haired woman is all-encompassing and enchanting.

He watches as she flirts with him, and his ears burn as he watches her using his tie as a leash, pulling herself closer to him.  He is appreciative of the jumpcut that returns to them both rumpled and befuddled.  He pauses the video then, smiling because he is one of two people who knows what happened during that jumpcut.  Of the tens of thousands of viewers that will watch this video, that jumpcut is he and Lizzie’s little secret. 

William plans for two weeks, he tells Lizzie three weeks, but ultimately he decides that resistance is futile, and he is on a plane to her hometown just three-and-a-half days after he left it.

 

 

When he uses Domino to call Lizzie on Wednesday evening, he attempts to sound practical as he walks through his plan for flying back to see her that weekend.  He tries to keep his face impassive and neutral, and explains that this will be their last chance to be together for several weeks, due to his travel itinerary and her thesis-completion schedule.  She remains silent as he muddles through his explanation, and he refuses to meet her eyes until he has laid all of his cards on the table.  She is gnawing her bottom lip, and for a moment, he panics _.  Is he being too clingy?  Perhaps it is too soon to want to be with her all the time?  Does she find him to be pitiful?_  

Just as he is starting to wonder if he has doomed their relationship before it could even begin, Lizzie laughs – a deep, sultry rumble that snakes through the phone and affects him right between his legs. 

“I was _hoping_ that you’d find your way back to me this weekend.  My mom invited Mary and my aunt and uncle and the Lu’s over for Easter lunch, so I don’t expect to have much time to focus on my project until after that anyhow.  Mom’s already freaking out about what size ham to get, and if this is the best time to test out her new potato recipe.”

“I have a delicious Potatoes au Gratin recipe; I would be happy to make it as my contribution to the meal,” William interjects.

“You. Want to make potatoes? For my family’s Easter meal?” 

Lizzie’s face is full of expression, but he can’t decipher what those emotions are.  He fears that he has overstepped another boundary, and quickly apologizes, “I’m sorry, was that wrong to offer?”

Lizzie looks away, and her notices a pink tinge on her cheeks.  “No. No, it’s perfect!”  She clears her throat.  “I just never thought that I’d be so… turned on? ….by a discussion about root vegetables.”

As she shyly casts her eyes up at him, he ungracefully blurts out, “What? Turned…  what?  You are teasing me.”  She shakes her head in response.  “Well… explain, please?  I want to know what I am doing right, for future reference…”

“It’s just the whole package, I think – the juxtaposition of all the different elements of you.  You wear your ties and your fancy Italian shoes and you run a business, but then you ask to join my mother in the kitchen to make cheesy potatoes from your own recipe.  It’s hot!”  She laughs.  “Is that ridiculous?”

“No more ridiculous than myself being turned on by your use of the word ‘juxtaposition.’”

“Ohhh, I understand completely!  I once had to refrain from throwing myself at you at your use of the word “verisimilitude.’”

“Yes?”  He grins at her bashful look.  “Well, then, _verisimilitude, verisimilitude, verisimilitude_.”

“STOP.  You are being mean, tormenting me when you aren’t even here to do anything about it!” Lizzie’s voice is jesting, but he can see the smolder in her eyes, and knows that this phone call could veer down a very different path with only a little encouragement from him. As he is contemplating whether or not he wants to provide that encouragement, Lizzies asks, “When will you be here?”

In an instant, he mentally re-arranges his schedule for Friday – one meeting he can move to Thursday morning, one he can push to Monday, another that cannot be budged but that he can phone in to…  “Tomorrow.  I can be there tomorrow evening.  I have to put in a full day, but I’ll head straight to the airport afterwards.”

“Perfect.  Although…” she grimaces.  “I can’t pick you up at the airport.  I have dinner plans with Lydia and Charlotte.  Lydia asked that we go out, and I’m just so glad that she’s getting some of her Lydia-ness back again after –“

“ – No need to explain!  I can get a car at the airport.  Would it be odd if I meet you at the restaurant?  Will Lydia or Charlotte mind?”

“I’ll double-check, but I think they will be fine with it; it’s just dinner.  I think the whole Carter’s scene was still a bit overwhelming for her.”  Lizzie adds with a smirk, “I, on the other hand, rather enjoyed the experience.”

This time, he is the one who blushes. 

 

 

 

They watch Lydia and Charlotte drive off, and turn towards one another.  “Finally!” Lizzie wilts against him, and sighs dramatically.  The exhale is such a perfect reflection of his own feelings at that moment, and he feels it echo down to his toes.  Finally – alone, together.

William is exhausted – physically, from the long day at work, followed by a flight – and emotionally, from the excitement of seeing Lizzie again, the moderate jealously of having to restrain himself in front of her sister and friend, and the near-demonic anger that Ricky Collins’ interruption caused.  But now, right now, with Lizzie’s forehead against his shoulder in the darkness of his rental car, he is rejuvenated. 

The drive back to Netherfield is silent.  She continues to lean on him, but doesn’t say a word, only picks gently at a string hanging at the hem of her dress.  He knows that dress – dark gray with orange and yellow and black flowers, form-fitting, with a peek-a-boo window in the back.  He knows that she is wearing that dress tonight with intention – he is learning that _everything_ is intentional with Lizzie.  Tonight, he understands that the dress is many things – an apology, a fresh start, an affirmation that tonight is bigger and more meaningful than any rejection ever was.  He looks forward to seeing that dress, inside-out, wadded-up, tossed someplace on the floor.  Once he sees it like that, the memory of her wearing it while spewing vitriol at him will be distant, almost forgotten.

He walks around the car at Netherfield, first retrieving his suitcase from the trunk, next her bag from the backseat, then opening her door and holding out his hand for her.  As she steps out of the car, their eyes meet, and at the fire he sees in her stare, he contemplates just dropping their luggage and taking her on the hood of the car.  _You are a gentleman, William Darcy_ , he mentally chides himself. 

Instead, he offers her an arm, and escorts her into the house.  Somehow they end up in his bedroom, each holding a glass of tempranillo.  The lights are too bright, and William looks at Lizzie, perched on the end of the bed, and he feels like he is about to take a test.  It all seems too structured, too planned, and he wishes that they had just gone for it a week ago, during one of those lust-saturated hazes where they both teetered on the brink.

He feels nervous and awkward, and she is looking up at him.  He tosses back the dregs of his wine, and she mirrors him.  He takes her glass from her, and sets both on top of a dresser.  Regardless of his unease, he wants her, wants to be with her, wants to make her happy.  So, he leans forward, hovers over her, kisses her, drops the insecurity and anxiety in a heartbeat as their lips mesh and his whole world becomes _her_.

The kiss deepens, and he feels the swift return of one of those heady, lust-saturated hazes.  He eases down, stretches out so that she can feel his weight without being suffocated by it.  It is as it always is when he kisses Lizzie – his desire level blinks from ‘warm’ to ‘blistering inferno’ in mere seconds.  He has been keeping his hand in control, but decides to release it from its chains; it massages the back of her bare thigh, and cups behind her knee to tug her closer.  She rotates her hips against him, and he can’t help the plaintive whimper that escapes his mouth.

He feels Lizzie giggle as she kisses down his jawbone.  “You turn me into a pitiful mess, and then you laugh at your effect on me?”

“I laugh because I enjoy having an effect on you.  But don’t underestimate my seriousness.  Once you see my underwear, you will understand just how serious I am.”

His hand freezes on its path up her thigh, and he pushes away from her.  “This dress needs to come off.”  With one swift movement, and her full cooperation, the dress is gone.  Although he had earlier fantasized about seeing it discarded in a pile, he finds that the minor amount of clothing ON her body is much more interesting than the clothing that is OFF her body.   Her underwear is simple, basic black lace, high-cut on the hip and low-cut on the chest.  In contrast with her perfect, milky skin and emphasizing her slight curves, he has never seen or imagined anything so arousing. 

“Lizzie, I cannot even… I have no words.”

“Then find another way to communicate,” Lizzie whispers as she pulls him back to her.

Following her advice, he uses his hands to speak to her, to tell her how beautiful she is, how he adores her.  His hands roam over all of her, slowly, firmly, with purpose and passion.  He again feels that two parts of him are at war: the part that wants to touch every silken inch of her skin, versus the part that is salivating at the black lace lingerie.  He can’t make up his mind, but the lingerie stays on simply because he is eager to proceed and can’t be bothered to slow down and remove it. 

He edges aside the thin strip of lace at her crotch, and they both whimper as his finger slips and then plunges hard into her core.  He is thankful for the days of practice they have shared, thankful that he has had some time to get familiar with her body and the things that bring her to her end.  That knowledge allows him to do just that, swiftly and very efficiently, with his deep-rooted finger and slicked thumb and his mouth suckling her through the black lace of her bra.  When she finishes with her back arched up off the duvet and her head thrust back, he has to stop grinding his arousal against her leg in fear that he will also finish - while still fully clothed.

William watches raptly as Lizzie returns from the heavens, as she flutters back down to earth and into her own body.  When she opens her eyes and smiles at him, he takes that as his sign to proceed.  He stands, pulls down the bedding, then scoops her up and places her on top of the cool sheet.  She peers at him with a sated smirk as he quickly unties and unbuttons and lets everything but his boxers fall to the floor.  Just as he is sliding next to her, he remembers something and leans out of the bed for his pants.  He moves to set the gold packet on the nightstand next to him, but Lizzie reaches over and grabs it, murmuring, “I’ve got this.”

His need for contact, total, warm, smooth contact, vetoes his lust for the black lingerie, and he removes them from her with a couple soft clicks and a shimmy; she moves to pull down his underwear, but he beats her to it. 

William hesitates, questions whether he should move into position at this point, or if she needs more time.  But then he feels her hands rolling the sheath down his length and he knows the time is _now_ , she is ready and he is beyond ready and this needs to happen.  He holds himself over her, bracing his weight with one arm and guiding himself into her with his other hand.  When he pushes in, the sensation is so overwhelming that he almost loses his balance, almost falls on her as she moans and bites his shoulder and clenches around him. 

He regains control, steadies and props his frame over her, looks down at her face to find her eyes wide and as captivating as the ocean in the moonlight.  Her eyes become his anchor as he begins to move against her, within her, and in his mind every thrust becomes a chant of _Lizzie… Lizzie… Lizzie_ …

He keeps the pace gentle, knows that it will be enough for him this time, and he watches her face contort as she softly climaxes again.  He feels his own climax barreling through him, and grabs ahold of her hip to push impossibly deep inside of her as his body pulses and throbs and releases.  Lizzie wraps her arms around his back, and pulls him against her.  She strokes his damp back with her fingertips while he shudders and recovers.

She hums, “I love you,” against his ear, and he fights sleep, fights lethargy, fights his way out of post-coital stupor in order to find his voice and say it back to her. 

“I love _you_ , Lizzie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this turned out smuttier than I expected. Huh.  
> (Random fan question: Does anyone know for sure if cousin Mary lives with both parents, or just her mom? I feel like there’s references that could go either way?)  
> This was going to be my final chapter, and it was going to be an epilogue. My plan was that they wouldn’t see each other for 6 weeks, and that the rule-breaking would take place after their reunion. However, when “Lizzie” posted those twitter pics last Friday, it implied that Darcy was already back in town to visit her. So, I decided to adjust my story and fit it better into that canon (and go along with the spiciness of those pictures – mee-yow.)  
> But, I still want this story to have an epilogue, so that means that you’ll be getting one more chapter…  
> The more you criticize my writing, the more I will love you. Get out your red pen, and I just may send you snickerdoodles.


	6. Phone calls and not living alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William is back in San Francisco; he and Lizzie get used to the long distance-ness of their relationship. Phone calling abounds and even gets a little bit naughty, with help from Lydia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, “This is the fic that never ends, It just goes on and on my friends, Somebody started writing it not knowing what it was, And she'll continue writing it forever just because . . .” If you’re not singing by now, I’ve lost you. But seriously, I do truly have an end in sight for this story. I know where and how I want it to end; I am just having trouble getting it there! I keep thinking of additional scenes to throw in along the journey, and every time I sit down to write what I think will be a short scene, it ends up being a whole chapter. I am not making any more promises, just that it will end eventually. I hope that you continue with me on this little journey.

William’s cheesy potatoes bring Lizzie’s mother to tears – hysterical, joyful tears.  _“Oh, Elizabeth, your young man is handsome, rich, AND he can cook?  Don’t you do anything silly to make this one slip away!”_

However, no matter how right and perfect it feels for him to join Lizzie’s family and friends at their holiday gathering, he still has to catch a Sunday evening flight back to San Francisco.  After dinner, Lizzie goes back to Netherfield with him, and they make love one last urgent time, despite having already done so once that morning and twice the evening before.    He drops Lizzie off at her driveway, kisses her thoroughly, and whispers “ _Five more weeks_ ” as she pulls away from him and exits the car.  She watches him drive away until his car turns a corner, then she slinks quietly through the back door, and up to her bedroom, avoiding all the knowing glances and bawdy comments that would surely greet her in the dining room.  She changes into flannel pants and one of William’s threadbare Harvard t-shirts, flops down on her bed, and groans, “ _Five more weeks_.”

 

 

Monday morning, both she and William throw themselves into a routine that is part necessity and part distraction.  The day starts with a phone call - she is just waking up, he is dressed and in his car heading to the office.  She feels as if she has let him down, by not being the first thing he senses when he awakens, so she insists that she can at least be the first thing he _hears_ each day (after his alarm clock, of course).  She pushes, and whines, and he finally agrees that tomorrow he will call her first thing, before he tosses back his sheets and steps out of bed.   “But, I’ll wake you,” he worries. 

“I want you to.  I want to hear the sound of you, still sleepy and rumpled.  It will help me to be able to picture myself there with you.” Lizzie grins, “Besides, I’ll probably have some late nights finalizing my thesis, so I won’t be calling you last thing before I go to sleep.  Mornings will be the only time we’ll be able to be groggy together… and I like our groggy conversations.”

He laughs and concedes, “Fine.  But just let me know if I am being intrusive.”

“You won’t be.  I promise.”

 

 

By the time Friday rolls around, Lizzie’s head is crammed full of media theory and business proposals and investor offers, yet she is still completely mystified about how interrupted her brain is with thoughts of one person – one person who isn’t even in her presence, one person who is simply a voice on the phone yet she feels in every heartbeat.    He is constant background noise; even when she is occupied with other details, the smallest thing makes her remember a touch, or the rich blue of his eyes, or the low secret just-for-her rumble of his laugh.   It takes almost nothing for her to pause whatever else she is doing, smile at a light memory, or sigh at a deeper one.  

After three phone calls on Monday morning - leading to him being late for a meeting and skipping lunch, and her barely editing three pages of her draft - they agree to limit themselves to one long evening call and one brief morning call.  It’s the only way that either of them will be able to function.  He is good on his word and calls her right after his alarm buzzes each morning.  She loves how raw and blunt he can be first thing in the morning; the rest of the day, she thinks that he is holding back, trying to be proper... but at 6 a.m., he is sultry and full of innuendo, and she suspects that he heads off to a cold shower after he hangs up.  (She usually does as well). 

They text frequently throughout the day – typically one-liners like _just talked to a new potential investor_ , or _this meeting will never end_ , or more often _love you_ and _miss you_ and _wish you were here_.   Lizzie finds these tiny phrases to be an anchor – not enough to pull her away from her work completely, but enough to remind her that there is a real world beyond her computer screen and her bedroom walls and the carrels at the library.   She is drowning in her project, but knows that she must allow it for the next several weeks; she must suspend reality for the sake of her future and her reputation.

Yet, on Friday afternoon when Lydia suggests that they go out for smoothies, Lizzie is in desperate need of something tangible, and accepts.   They spend two hours sitting on benches outside, talking about everything but nothing important (the outing is worthwhile to Lizzie because she doesn’t say or hear the word “media” once). 

They are heading home in Lydia’s car when Lizzie’s phone rings. When she sees that it’s William, she is immediately concerned, and takes the call.

“Hey, what’s going on?  Is everything okay?”

“Yes, it’s fine.  Sorry, I don’t mean to worry you by calling in the middle of the day.  I left work a little early today, since I fly out tomorrow for Chicago, and I missed you.  I hope that I’m not interrupting anything too major?”

“Oh, no, it’s fine.  I was actually just taking a little break with Lydia anyhow.”

“Oh, you’re with Lydia?  I’ll let you go then.” Lizzie senses a nervousness, a hesitancy, in his tone.

“It’s okay, we’re almost home.  Are you sure everything is good?”

He pauses before answering, “Yes.  Yes.  I just was missing you.”

“I understand, and I miss you too!”  Lizzie glances over at Lydia, who is rolling her eyes and fake gagging.

William pauses again, then announces, “No, I mean I was _missing_ missing you.”

“Oh.  Oh, gotcha.”  Lizzie tries to respond without Lydia being privy to the nature of her boyfriend’s discussion.  “Well, same here, you know.  Maybe…” She falters and looks toward Lydia, who seems engrossed in finding a radio station.  “Maybe I can call you later and we can, um, figure something out?”

“You…” he gulps, “you would be interested in _that_?”

“Well, maybe?  I mean, I’ve never… but, I’m not opposed… with you.”

“Hmm.  Interesting.  It may just help the next month pass by a bit quicker.”

“Have you?” Lizzie is purposely enigmatic, hoping that Lydia won’t catch on.

“Uh, no. You?”

“Not even close.”  Lydia pulls her car into the driveway, and turns off the car.  She smiles at Lizzie, and gets out of the car.  As she heads to the house, Lizzie sees her smirking as she plays with her phone.  Just as she walks in the door, she looks back at Lizzie and winks.  Lizzie hears her text alert, but keeps talking to William.  “We are two bright people, I’m fairly certain that we can figure it out!  Right?  How about if I call you in, say, four hours?  Nine-ish?”

“That sounds wonderful.  I will be eagerly awaiting your call.  I love you.”

Lizzie hears the grin in his voice, and responds, “I’m sure you will be.  Love you too,” she signs off, and hangs up.  She scrolls over to her text inbox, and sees Lydia’s message: _I have pointers. Come see me.  NOW._

 

Lizzie can count on one hand the number of times that she has gone to Lydia for advice, and most of those times have been within the past three weeks.   She wavers at Lydia’s door, but swallows her pride and walks in.  “What do you mean, ‘pointers?’”

“Oh, puh-leeze, Lizzie.  Like I couldn’t figure out what you were talking about in the car.”

Lizzie plays stupid, and replies, “What do you mean?”

Lydia narrows her eyes at her older sister.  “You want to sex up the Darce-man on the phone, and I guarantee that he’s never done it before, and I highly doubt that you’ve done it before, so I figure that maybe you would have some questions for someone who has…”

“You have?  When?  Who?”  Lizzie feels both shocked and impressed.

“That doesn’t really matter; it’s in the past and I don’t want to talk about the deets.  But… I might be able to share my wisdom with you.”

Lizzie can’t help but snort at this thought.  “Oh, good Lord, my little sister is offering to share her phone sex wisdom with me.  What has my life turned into?”

“I’ll bet that it’s a hell of a lot steamier and more interesting than it was just a few weeks ago?” Lizzie shrugs but blushes as she nods in agreement.  Lydia wrinkles up her nose and blurts, “Okay, I just have to know!  Really, honest, no holding back, is it good?  I mean, he’s a beefy hunk of mancake, but he can just be such a dork sometimes… does he actually have skills?  Really?”

“Lydia!” Lizzie considers taking offense at her sister’s nosiness, but instead decides to take the opportunity in front of her, the chance to prattle about her revived sex life in way that she hasn’t even done with Charlotte yet.  “Lydia, omigod, it is so crazy good, like I-didn’t-think-it-was-possible kind of good!  And he has skills that I… I can’t even think about without blushing.  The things that man can do with his hands, ugh, and his mouth… I don’t know where he learned all of it, and honestly, I don’t care, as long as he keeps doing it!”

Lydia’s mouth had fallen open, and she quickly flutters her hand in Lizzie’s face.  “Stop.  I’m happy for you, but I don’t want to hear any gory specifics.  If he’s going to be my brother-in-law, I’d like to have a civil relationship with him, without knowing how perfect his penis is.”

“YOU asked ME, Lydia!”  Lizzie laughs at Lydia’s revulsion.  “And it is.”  Lydia’s eyebrows shoot up and Lizzie continues, “Perfect. Splendidly, magnificently perfect!”

“Oooo-key-dokey, then… on that note, let’s just move on to how you need to talk dirty to the owner of that, ahem, ‘magnificent’ penis.”

 

 

At 8:58, Lizzie grabs her phone and slides into her bed.  Lydia had suggested, “Wear something sexy, so that when he asks you what you’re wearing, you can describe it in detail,” so she is wearing the black underwear from their first night together.  She stares at her phone and tries to control the erratic staccato of her heart; she knows that its frantic beat is a result of both nerves and excitement, but doesn’t know which reason outweighs the other at this point.

She presses the call button at 9:00 exactly, and he picks up before the first ring finishes.  “Hello, Lizzie,” he says thickly. 

 _Excitement_ , she thinks.  _Definitely excitement_.

Thanks to Lydia, Lizzie is empowered.  She jumps right in, takes control of the conversation, tells him how she feels and what she wishes he was doing to her, and what she wants him to do to himself, and what her own hands are doing.  She is steering the experience with such finesse that his only contributions are random whimpers and groans and the occasional, “ _God, Lizzie_.”  She has become familiar enough with his sound effects to understand that he is holding on by a thread, trying to let her beat him to the finish line. 

She is close, starting to pant and gasp as the end rushes to meet her, and he stutters out, “I’m… it’s… Lizzie,” and her breath catches in her throat and…

A loud southern drawl calls out “Elizabeth??”  Lizzie’s head flies up just in time to see her doorknob jiggle – _crap I forgot to lock it_ – and the door slowly cracks open as she hits the end button on her phone and stuffs it under her pillow and pulls the blanket up to cover her entirely. 

“Mom?” Her voice quivers with unsatisfied need and she still hasn’t caught her breath.  “What’s wrong?  I had a headache so I went to bed early.”

“Oh, sweetie, then don’t let me bother you.  I was just going to get your opinion on some menu ideas, but I’m sorry to have bothered you.  You just go back to sleep now.”

Her mother exits, and Lizzie darts out of bed the moment her door clicks shut, and throws the lock.  She can hear her phone buzzing from underneath the pillow, and answers it, “I’m so sorry!”

“What happened?  Where did you go?”

She moans, “It was all my fault, I forgot to lock the door, and my mom came in, blegh, right at the most inopportune time.  Talk about a turn-off.  But, wait!  Did you…”

“Yes.  I apologize.  I heard a commotion on your end, but, I am sorry, it was… uh, too late.”

She giggles at his sheepish tenor, “For heaven’s sake, don’t apologize!  I’m glad that one of us had a successful evening.”

He offers to talk her through so that she can also meet with success, but she insists that her mother’s interruption was as effective as a bucket of ice water.  “You can owe me,” she tells him. “After all, we have a month apart where we can get in lots of practice.  Of course, I’ll have to remember to lock the door…  You know, I think this is just another sign that it is high time that I move out.  A grown woman shouldn’t have to worry about her parents walking in on her sex life!”

He doesn’t chuckle in response as she expects him to.  “William?”

“Yes.  About that, all that, the moving out part and the sex life part… well, I was thinking…  I don’t want you to feel pressured, or like you’ll hurt me, but I wanted to let you know that you would be most welcome to live here, with me.”

Lizzie pauses and chooses her words carefully.  “Don’t you think it’s a bit too early, though, in our relationship?”

“All I know is that it is a practical offer, not simply emotional.  I hope that, when you move to the city, bed-sharing will be the norm as opposed to a rarity.  It’s challenging enough sleeping without you when you are hours away; if you were just minutes away, I would never want to sleep apart from you.”

“That makes sense, but… can you give me some time to consider?  It’s very tempting, but I want to think about it.”

“Of course, Lizzie.  And your decision will not alter the way I feel for you, I promise.  It just seems foolish to have two homes when I plan to spend most of my time with you.”

Her murmur of agreement morphs into a yawn, and she settles deep under her comforter and asks him to talk – “Anything.  Just talk.” – and she gets drowsy on the sound of his voice as he tells her about his upcoming trip to Chicago and how he would like to take her there one day and that she would like the bread at Rosebud.  Eventually, he has to repeat her name so that she rouses with a “mmhph?”

“Goodnight, Lizzie, I love you.  Plug in your phone.”

“Mmm-hmm.  Love you too,” she slurs and hangs up her phone.

 

 

When he calls her back in the middle of the night, he challenges, “I’m ready to try this again; are you?” This time, he takes charge, tells her just what he expects from her and what he’d do to her if she was next to him.  She finds that she likes this side of him, it excites her and she finishes swiftly while biting on her fist to keep sounds from escaping and leading to any more parental disturbances.   He is moments behind her, and they lie together, but not together, and catch their breath, and think about how the real thing is better but this will do, this will suffice, for another month.  It has to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I NOT write smut? For freakin’ crying out loud, dude. I don’t set out to be so smutty, but I feel like I always end up there, especially with this fic. I guess it is because I feel like this is an oh-so-hot couple, and I believe that once they would figure things out, their sex life would be smoking awesome. Kudos to the whole team of writers and actors for creating such believable characters with such palpable tension and energy.


	7. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizzie turns in her thesis, and meets William in San Francisco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay between chapters! I was supa-busy this week, then I ended up in bed with a 2-day migraine. Which BLOWS, btw. For some reason, I wrote most of chapter 8 before I even started chapter 7, so I should have it posted much faster.  
> Note: Can anyone clarify GiGi’s living arrangement? She was away at school, living in a condo, when the whole thing with George happened. Does canon ever spell out what happens after? She’s a part-time Graphic Designer at Pemberley, and going to school (so, someplace in/near San Francisco) and on the Tennis team. But where does she live? For that matter, does canon ever tell us where William lives? I have read so much fic that I can’t seem to remember what is canon ‘reality’ and what is fic reality. I know that fic puts WD in all sorts of living arrangements – an inherited family home outside the city, a house in the city, a condo, a penthouse, sometimes he lives with GiGi and sometimes he doesn’t. I wish canon was a bit more clear. I have always pictured him in a posh condo in the city, so that’s what I am going with… and for this fic, I am putting GiGi in her own place.  
> This chapter, some smut. Next chapter, not-so-smut.

Technically, Lizzie has until 4 p.m. on Monday, May 6, to submit her thesis.  However, she is so sick of looking at it by the Thursday evening prior, feels like it has been edited and revised as much as it can possibly be, that she drops it off at Kinkos with strict printing and binding instructions.   She gets home, and barely manages to text William, _it’s done, going to sleep_ , before flopping into bed with her clothes on and sleeping dreamlessly for the next 12 hours. 

She wakes up at 7 a.m. to three missed texts from him: _Good job.  I love you.  Sleep tight_ from the night before,  _I’m awake but I will wait for your call_ just an hour ago, and finally, _Can I fly in to see you this weekend?_  just seconds earlier.    She smiles and lights up at the thought, and is about to text back _yes please_ , when she has a better idea, and texts _NOPE_ instead.  As expected, her phone is ringing within the minute, and her “Good morning!” is answered with, “What do you mean, ‘nope?’”

“I mean… what do you think about a weekend houseguest? In San Francisco?”

“Really?  You would come here?”

“Well, I want to see you, but I could use a change of scenery.  I’m feeling a little stir-crazy.  Besides, I’ve never even seen your place… which seems odd, considering you asked me to live there with you…”

“…which you never did give me an answer on…”

“We can talk about it in person.  If that’s okay - me coming there?”

“Yes! Yes, of course, more than okay.  I am almost at the office; I can have Ms. Reynolds make the flight arrangements –“ Lizzie starts to interrupt, but he continues “- please, my treat? In honor of you submitting your thesis?” 

“Fine.” She grumbles, but doesn’t feel like arguing away their happy moods. “Give me a few hours to get ready and pack, and drop everything off with Dr. Gardiner.”

“We’ll get you on an early afternoon flight, if possible.  We will handle everything.  I will text you the times and flight info.”

 

Lydia is free until an afternoon class, and volunteers to be Lizzie’s chauffeur.  They toss Lizzie’s weekend luggage into the trunk, before heading to Kinko’s to pick up the required copies of Lizzie’s paper.   Lydia offers to wait in the car, but Lizzie drags her into the Communications Department, just to snap a picture of Lizzie handing her paper ceremoniously to Dr. Gardiner.  Afterwards, as Lydia drives them to lunch, Lizzie messages the photo to Charlotte and William, and then tweets it as well, with the caption, “It’s done!!!”  

Over shawarma, the sisters laugh and coo at all the responses Lizzie’s picture generates.  “Your fandom is so proud of you!” Lydia proclaims.  “And so am I!” She leans over and plants a sticky kiss on Lizzie’s cheek.

“Thank you, and ewww.” Lizzie wipes at her cheek.  “William sent me my flight info.” She shows the text to Lydia.  “If we go now, you can be back in time for your class.”

Lydia bounds up.  “Let’s get going then!  You have a Darce-a-licious booty call waiting for you in San Fran!” 

Lizzie cringes at Lydia’s words, and her volume, but can’t help but smile back at her little sister’s enthusiasm and support as she follows her out of the restaurant.

 

 

An earlier text from William said that there would be a car waiting at the airport to pick Lizzie up; Lizzie doesn’t know if this means William will be IN that car, or if he is just sending a driver.  She hopes that he will be there, but refuses to ask; if he has work to do, she does not want him to feel obligated to set it aside for her sake.

As she collects her luggage, she represses her excitement, refuses to look around and scan the crowd for his face.  When her bags are slung over her shoulder, she braces herself for disappointment and turns, telling herself that she is only expecting a limo driver holding a sign with her name on it.  But _there_.  Her gaze finds him instantly ( _it’s convenient to love a tall man_ , she thinks). 

Her face feels like it might crack as she pushes her way towards him, never once breaking eye contact.  Just as she gets close enough to voice her happiness at seeing him, he glances away from her.  Before Lizzie can follow his line of vision, she is knocked off-balance as slender arms fling around her and a high-pitched voice squeals, “Surprise!” directly into her ear.

“GiGi? And Fitz?” She asks as another set of arms come at her from the other side, squishing her in a Lizzie sandwich.  “What are you guys doing here?”  She looks up at William, who seems to be riding the fine line between amused and annoyed.

“Fitz overheard me making plans to leave for the day, and shared that information with GiGi.  When I came downstairs to meet the limousine, guess who were already waiting in the backseat?” He raises his eyebrows at Lizzie.

“Lizzie B! You left without a goodbye. We have missed the heck out of you!  And this big lug was planning on keeping you to himself all weekend.  That was not okay!” Fitz exclaims.

“We needed a dose of Lizzie,” GiGi finally unwraps herself from Lizzie.  “And, really, after all our hard work, we earned at least a few minutes of your time.”

“I suppose so,” Lizzie agrees, as William leans over to kiss her chastely as he grabs her bags. 

“Welcome back,” he murmurs as he brushes his mouth against her ear.

She shivers and takes his hand as they follow GiGi and Fitz out.

 

 

On the ride to Pemberley Digital, they avoid the obvious topics of discussion: Lydia’s tape, George Wickham, the Domino videos.  It’s not so much that those subjects are uncomfortable as they are over-played and in the past.  Instead, they focus on lighter themes: Fitz and Brandon’s trip to Fiji, GiGi’s upcoming project in Sanditon, and of course there’s teasing about William and Lizzie finally figuring things out (“You never would have done it without us!” GiGi insists).

Lizzie enjoys the banter between her friends, but notices that William’s input is minimal.  He sits next to her, buts she finds herself turning her back to him as she converses with GiGi and Fitz.  She resists rubbing his thigh, though his own hand lightly caresses her back.   As much as she appreciates the camaraderie of their companions, she is relieved when they pull up in front of Pemberley.

Fitz calls out, “Don’t be a stranger, Lizzie B!” and GiGi leans over to give Lizzie another hug before exiting the car and closing the door behind her. 

“Finally,” Lizzie blurts as she wheels around to face William, grateful for the privacy and isolation that the back of the limo provides. ln one blurred motion, she straddles him as her shirt simultaneously flies off.  His hands clamp tight around her hips and pull her against him as she starts working on his tie. 

They pull apart as the car door opens, and GiGi’s face pops in, “Hey guys, I left my jack- EEP! Nevermind, I’ll get it later!” she giggles as she backs away.  “Fitz, there’s already clothing off!” Lizzie and William hear her call just before she slams the door shut.  As the car pulls away, they see Fitz standing on the sidewalk, doubled over, laughing.

Lizzie turns back to William.  “Well, that was embarrassing,” she whispers to his lips.

“Mmm.  Not really.  I cannot bring myself to care…” he whispers back, and tightens his arms around her as their mouths meet.

“How long till we get to your place?” she breaks away to ask.

“Twenty minutes.  But it’s rush hour, so maybe longer?”

“Good.  That’s plenty of time.” She shimmies away from him, and he looks heartbroken until he realizes that she is unzipping her jeans and yanking them off.  He slides his suspenders down and starts unbuttoning his shirt, and she goes for the button on his trousers.  He makes an ungraceful sound when the side of her hand rubs against him, and she bites her lip and does it a second time.  She pulls his slacks and then his boxer briefs down so they pool around his ankles.  He has managed to get his shirt unbuttoned, but it still hangs on his shoulders, and he forgets about it entirely as he watches her slither out of her panties, and then fish in her purse to retrieve a foil packet.

William groans as he grabs her elbow and pulls her back up to his bare lap. Her moisture and heat is apparent, and he slides a hand down between their bodies, only to have her bat it away.  “No.  I’m ready, _now_.” She bites open the packet, and sheathes him in the condom as he tries to keep his eyes from rolling back into his head.

He grips the sides of her hips, and helps to guide her up and onto him.  They both exhale deeply as she pushes down, locks in place against him, and she freezes, quivering softly against him.  “So good, William.  Feels like coming home.” 

He moans in assent, but before he can voice a reply, she begins rocking against him, and all words flee.   She is so slick and so tight, and he doesn’t allow her much range of motion as she grinds and thrusts.   Though it has been almost five weeks since they have been together like this, William remembers her triggers, remembers what she likes, remembers them because they might be his favorite bits of knowledge ever, and he brings her swiftly to her end.  While she trembles and collapses on him, he pulls her against him in one last deep plunge, and joins her over the edge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what’s awesome? You guys, with your hits and your kudos and your comments! Keep ‘em coming! They make me smile. Concrit equals love.


	8. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter. Lizzie and William go out with their friends, and they talk about feelings and the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter. No smut. Really! No smut. Read it if you can handle that. I did toss in Darcy in a towel, so maybe that will help. 
> 
> Read my end note for more info on the future of this series (yes, now it’s a series. Why? Why not.)
> 
> I love all of your comment-ing and your kudos-ing. Absolutely makes me feel… kinda happy and speechless. The good, the bad, I love hearing from you because that means that you ARE READING SOMETHING THAT I WROTE and that is so super-insanely-cool. I am honored that you have given your time to read MY story. LBD touches something powerful inside my heart, and I am so delighted to be able to share that experience with all of you.

“WE ARE MAKING LOTS OF NOISE SO THAT WE DON’T WALK IN ON ANYTHING!”  Fitz yells as he, GiGi, and Brandon stomp and thump into William’s condo.  Brandon slams the door shut as he is the last one to pass through. 

“WE ARE INSIDE YOUR KITCHEN AND DON’T WANT TO SEE ANY NUDITY!” Fitz adds.

“Oh gawd,” GiGi moans.  “ESPECIALLY YOUR SISTER! THAT MAY SCAR HER FOR LIFE!” she shouts.

Lizzie’s voice enters the kitchen before the rest of her.  “What is going on?  What’s with all the hullaballoo, guys?”  She pauses in the archway that connects the kitchen to the bedroom wing.  “What are you all doing here so early?”

“Lizzie B, it is 10:30 in the morning.  I know that it’s a Sunday, but we all want a chance to see your fabulous, funny, fine-looking, friendly face before it leaves San Francisco.  Big D has no right to hog you for the whole weekend!”

“We’ve been trying to call for the past two hours, but no one around here seems to know how to pick up their phones…” GiGi purses her lips and gives Lizzie a narrow-eyed glare.

“Lizzie? Is everything okay?  I heard loud noises!” William’s voice approaches, and suddenly he is standing in the kitchen, dripping wet, clutching a towel around his waist.

“I said no nudity!” GiGi squeaks and covers her eyes as she spins to face away from her brother. 

“Hey D, we are here to take the two of you out to brunch,” Fitz laughs.

Brandon chimes in, “We worried that you might not be meeting nutritional standards this weekend.  We wanted to make sure that you both got at least one proper meal.”

“We got take-out,” Darcy responds defensively.

“Friday night!” Lizzie placates.  “So, yes, brunch would be lovely, right, “D?””  He nods, and she sees a blob of bubbles behind his ear.  “Why don’t you go finish your shower, and I’ll clean up all … this?” she motions to the puddle he is standing in, and the trail of suds and water leading down the hall.  He looks down at the ground, and startles, as if just noticing that he is pretty much naked in front of four people.  In his kitchen.  He opens his mouth to say something, but thinks better of it and just nods again at Lizzie before striding away.

She follows him down the hall, but returns a minute later, dragging a fluffy white towel with her foot.  She pushes it into the puddle William left, arranging the fabric with her toes so that every drop is sopped up.  She looks up at an amused GiGi, perched on a stool next to Brandon.

Fitz is pouring a cup of coffee over by the sink. He looks at Lizzie.  “Now that you’ve cleaned up that mess, why don’t you take care of – THAT – so we can take you in public.” He waves his stirring spoon at her body.  “We are NOT taking you out in your jammies.”

 

 

William insists on taking them all to his favorite diner.  “Hipster cuisine,” Brandon giggles.

“It’s delicious, and all organic and locally-sourced,” William frowns.  GiGi leans over and kisses him on the cheek. 

“It’s okay, big brother, we love you _and_ your pretentious grub.”  He feels a scowl beginning to form, but Lizzie’s hand squeezing his somehow prevents that scowl from reaching the surface of his face.   He looks down and smiles at her open, affectionate gaze. 

“The strawberry pancakes are outstanding,” he whispers at her as they enter the restaurant.

William gets an egg-white frittata, but Lizzie follows his recommendation, and gets the “Big Stack” of strawberry pancakes.  Everyone at the table is impressed when she actually finishes all five of the fluffy delights, and even uses her finger to swipe the last drops of syrup and fresh whipped cream off her plate.  “What?  I’m carbo-loading!” she responds to GiGi’s look of mingled disgust and awe.

“Why would you be car… you know, never mind, let’s talk about something else!” GiGi replies. 

 

 

“Dearest Lizzie B, it is so wonderful to have you back in our midst!” Fitz announces as they all relax over warm beverages.  “When will you be back with us for good?”

“Well,” she glances at William and reaches out to tangle her hand with his.  “I’ll head home tomorrow, and I have a few loose ends to tie up at school before I pack everything up and head this way with all my crap!” 

“Oh, and there will be a celebration in Lizzie’s honor, the weekend after next, at Netherfield.  I have not had the opportunity to write up invitations, but I hope that you all will be able to make it?” William raises his eyebrows at his friends and sister as they nod and smile in acceptance.

“So, I should be here officially by the First of June.  I’m going to stay with William at the start, so that I have time to find a nice apartment of my own, and I don’t have to rush to get settled in.” She circles her thumb over the top of William’s hand as she peeks at him.

“Wait.” Fitz leans across the table towards Lizzie.  “You aren’t just planning to live together?  After this weekend, don’t you think that two homes will be a bit, uh, superfluous?”

“Fitz! Don’t hound the poor girl!  Remember what it was like for us in the beginning?”  Brandon turns to Lizzie.  “Fitz had this ginormous condo, and here I was, living in a little studio apartment, barely making rent.  It didn’t take long before he was trying to convince me to move in with him.”

“…And it took you almost a year before you agreed to do so.” Fitz interjects.

“Yes,” Brandon grips Fitz’s hand, and turns back to Lizzie.  “It took some time for us to figure out the financial balance… or lack-of-balance, I guess.  It was just something we had to learn to work with, if we wanted to be together.”

“It’s not that, exactly. I mean, sure, that comes into play, but that wasn’t the main reason.” Lizzie pauses.  “William offered –“

“ – and the offer remains open, should you change your mind,” he interrupts.

“Yes.  And, if I’m honest, it probably won’t take very long before I do change my mind.  But…”  Lizzie takes a deep breath.  “I’ve never lived on my own!  I’m 25 years old, and I have never had my own place, never had to worry about the cooking and the cleaning and the rent –“

“ – Trust me, Lizzie B, it’s over-rated,” Fitz interjects.

“I know, I know.  And it probably just seems silly to all of you, but I just need to try it, once, just to check it off my list.  I need to assert my independence, make sure that I don’t regret that missed opportunity somewhere down the road.” Lizzie continues to hold tight to William’s hand, but gesticulates wildly with her free hand as she explains to Fitz, Brandon, and GiGi.  “I don’t want to say to my future kids, ‘Hey, I went straight from living at your grandparents’ home to living at your father’s home.’”  She looks down and takes a sip of her coffee.  “I want them to know that I was capable of being an adult and managing my own affairs.  It’s just something I have to prove to myself.”

She looks up from her drink, and Brandon and Fitz both have their mouths hanging open in identical gob-smacked expressions, and GiGi has her hand covering her mouth and nose.  “What?” Lizzie asks as she glances toward William. He is fighting a smile by biting the inside of his lower lip and pressing his index finger against his mouth.  She can’t read the look in his eyes – it’s something akin to admiration, but she sees other things there as well – mirth, lust, even a trace of sadness.  “What?” Lizzie asks again, and turns to GiGi.

“What did you just say, Lizzie?” says GiGi, muffled under her hand.  “What do you want to tell your kids?”

“What?  That I can be self-sufficient?  That I don’t want to move from my parent’s house to… Oh God!” Lizzie sits bolt upright as she realizes the implication of her words.  “I didn’t mean…” She looks at William, who is wearing the same expression as before, but now with the addition of a raised eyebrow.  She feels her cheeks flaming, and Fitz is laughing hysterically into Brandon’s shoulder.  She feels tears welling and stares at her coffee cup.  William slides close to her and puts his arm around her waist. 

“It’s okay, Lizzie, don’t be embarrassed.  We all make mistakes,” he murmurs as he kisses near her ear.

“Uh, guys, there’s no big announcement that you’re trying to make, right?  I mean, Lizzie did pack away those pancakes like she was eating for two…” GiGi stops giggling just long enough to ask. 

“Ha-Ha.” Lizzie pulls herself together, puts on a mask to endure her friends’ levity, but she is relieved when the party breaks up soon after. 

They arrive back at William’s condo, and he busies himself with mundane tasks: hanging his keys on the proper hook, putting Fitz’s coffee cup in the sink.

“William?”

“Hmm?”

“It wasn’t a mistake. What I said at the diner, that is. It was a slip, but it wasn’t a mistake,” she blurts out in a jumble.

“Oh.” William leans back unto one of the barstools.  “I see.”

Lizzie watches the tips of her boots.  “I don’t mean to make you feel weird, but, you know, it just seemed like something I needed to clarify.”  She hears rustling, and the tips of his shoes sidle up next to hers.

“Lizzie.  Come here.” He takes her hand and guides her to the living room, where he sits down in his favorite armchair and pulls her unto his lap.  He puts his hand under her chin, and urges her to meet his gaze.  He kisses her gently, almost reverently.

“You were honest with me – even if you did not intend to be so forthcoming – so I am going to be honest with you in return.  This?” He uses two fingers to gesture back and forth between them. “Us?  I do not foresee an endpoint.  I feel like I have begun a new chapter of my life, and the themes of the previous ones were simply finding my way to you.  This new chapter – _all_ the chapters to come – I want to be about being worthy of each other.“  Lizzie is silently crying, and he kisses the tears on each of her cheeks.

“I’m not suggesting that we run off and do anything impulsive,” William earns a smile and a sniff from Lizzie with this comment.  “But, if we did… I think everything would work out in the end.”

Lizzie laughs once and nods.  “Agreed.”  She leans forward and kisses him, thoroughly, deeply, with all her hopes and dreams for their future.  She pulls away, and he is panting softly.  “More honesty?” she inquires.

“Sure,” he replies, though the intensity of his expression tells her that he would be perfectly happy talking later.

Lizzie starts, “I feel like I do ‘honest’ much better when there’s less clothing between us. But, I don’t want this to be just a sex thing; I need you to know that I see it as so much more than that.”  She pauses, and waits for his nod before continuing.

“Last October, when I told you that you were the last man on earth that I could ever fall in love with, I was telling the truth – as I saw it then.” William furrows his brows, but waits for her to continue.  “And it’s still true today, but in a different way.  Now, you are the last man on earth that I WANT to fall in love with.  I am heads-over-heels, crazy in love with you, William Darcy, and I don’t want that to go away.  I want you to be the love of my life.”

He pulls back and studies her.  “William?  Now is when you kiss me.”

“I apologize.  Sometimes I am just stunned that you are here, in my arms, saying exactly the things I want you to say.  I feel like I must be caught up in a crazy dream.”

Lizzie takes the initiative, and kisses him.  “No dream, William.  I’m here, and I love you.”  She runs her hand over his chest, and slides her fingers through the gaps of his button-down.  “And, if you would snap out of it, I’d like the chance to prove it to you…”

William Darcy has lost opportunities with Lizzie Bennet before, but this time, he scoops her in his arms and takes full advantage of every opportunity she presents to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soppy ending? Perchance. I just wanted to end it on a ‘they are in real true love and it is not just about the smut’ note. 
> 
> I feel like this is a good spot to end this story arc. They are together and sweetly happy. They have talked about their feelings and their future. Lizzie makes a stand for independence by deciding to NOT shack up with the Darcinator. 
> 
> BUT. I am going to continue the AU – the “Not-Yet-verse.” I have ideas for some one-shots that take place in the same universe, but are not as tightly tied together. So, I have made this story the first in a series that I am calling, “Together.” Those of you lovely lovelies who have subscribed to this story, you can subscribe to the series by following the Together link that appears below this note. Yes, there will be more smut. I can’t help myself.
> 
>  
> 
> Other notes on chapter 8: 
> 
> Seriously? Brandon is my favorite LBD character that we never got to meet. I heart Fitz for all his glorious Fitz-i-ness, so I heart anyone who makes Fitz happy!
> 
> I realize it may be a bit odd for GiGi, Fitz and Brandon to just traipse into Darcy’s place, but I put it in intentionally to show that Fitz and GiGi are used to having constant access to Darcy – like they always just storm right in because they have never before had anything to interrupt. I guess that GiGi will just have to walk in on them having sex on the countertop before she learns to not barge in? ;)


End file.
